The Little Things
by Lily Winterwood
Summary: Various BHL-verse drabbles/vignettes/what-have-you. Spoilers for Blurring House Lines and Nil Desperandum, as well as HP/APH canon.
1. Driscoll and Justice

**Title:** The Little Things  
**Character(s) or Pairing(s):** Most, if not all Nations. BHL-verse pairings (Canonical Potterverse pairings, plus some hints of crossover ones with the Nations/USUK/FrUK/Asakiku/FrSey/RuSey/USBel/UKBel/etc.)  
**Rating:** Varies; R to be safe.  
**Notes:** This is set in the...er, world... of _Blurring House Lines_ and _Nil Desperandum_. Reading those before these is strongly recommended, as there will be spoilers. Since these have not been pre-written, I will take suggestions for upcoming chapters.

**

* * *

Driscoll and Justice**

Driscoll took flight in a myriad of feathers, silently gliding over the castle. The spires and turrets guided him along the way as he flew, looking for someone.

He found him sitting underneath a tree on the banks of the lake. Driscoll landed with a hoot on the arm of his master Arthur Kirkland. The green-clad boy smiled and patted his head. Driscoll thought he had big eyebrows.

_Hello Mr Big-Brows. It's your owl, here to devour your food._

"Hello," Arthur said. Driscoll hooted, looking expectant. The blond chuckled. "Yes I have food," he said, reaching into his satchel and pulling out a piece of meat. The barn owl hooted and started nipping at it.

"Artie!" came a second voice. Driscoll stiffened, seeing his master look away towards another boy. This boy wore red, and Justice sat on his shoulder. Justice was an eagle owl, proud and beautiful like her master. Her master was taller than Arthur was, with glasses, blue eyes, and a perpetual smile.

"What do you want, Alfred?" Arthur demanded, petting Driscoll absentmindedly as the barn owl sat on his arm. "If it's to tease me about being a Slytherin again I swear I'll –"

"Come on, Artie! Don't be like that!" Alfred grinned.

Justice took flight; casting a glance over her shoulder at Driscoll. The barn owl hopped into flight with a resigned hoot.

"Driscoll, your lunch!" Arthur called, but the barn owl for once didn't care. Justice wanted him to follow her.

The two owls flew into the Forbidden Forest, where Justice perched on a tree overlooking the lake. Driscoll could still see his master and Justice's master far away; they seemed to be arguing.

Justice looked away from them. Driscoll looked at her.

Without a hoot, Justice leaned her head against Driscoll's. He responded by putting a wing around her.

* * *

**Notes:** I just really wanted an excuse to write Driscoll. He's one of my favourite BHL characters. XD;;


	2. First Impressions

**Summary:** The first years of the Asakiku relationship, from Kiku's viewpoint.

* * *

**First Impressions**

"Kirkland, Arthur."

From his spot at the Ravenclaw table, Kiku Honda watched the golden-haired boy walk up to the stool and take a seat; the raggedy old Sorting Hat was placed on his head.

After a moment of deliberation the Hat yelled, "SLYTHERIN!" and Arthur Kikrland walked to the green-and-silver table. Kiku watched him go, smiling slightly as he noticed the candlelight dancing on the boy's blond hair. From afar, Arthur looked extremely attractive.

He blushed and tore his gaze away, not believing that he was thinking such things of a complete stranger – and a boy, to boot.

"Hey, you're Kiku, right?" Elisabeta Héderváry asked from next to him. "Are you Japanese?"

"Yes," he replied in a small voice; his eyes flickering back to the Slytherin table. Arthur was talking to that Frenchman – Francis Bonnefois, was it? – and Kiku felt a twinge of resentment towards said Frenchman.

"That's really neat! I heard the Japanese really like this thing they call 'yaoi'. Do you like that?"

Kiku blushed. "Er… sort of," he admitted, only giving her a half-truth. He _loved_ yaoi, but he wasn't going to let anyone know that!

"Do you have any pictures I can borrow?" Elisabeta's green eyes were alight, and Kiku hid a smile behind his hand as food appeared on the tables.

"We'll see about that," he agreed.

* * *

He saw Arthur several more times during his classes. The blonde was always sitting with either the loudmouthed Gryffindor named Alfred F. Jones or with his fellow Slytherins Francis and Nataliya. Nataliya was a quiet girl with silvery-blonde hair and a dangerous aura around her. Yet somehow Francis and Arthur managed to put up with her enough to become friends.

Kiku sat in the library, reading an advanced Charms book. It was almost in his nature to over-study for things, and reading was one of his passions. He practically lived in the library, like a stereotypical Ravenclaw. Sometimes Lee Wang, his distant cousin of sorts, stayed with him, but for the most part Kiku was alone whenever he spent time in the library. After all, his two best friends – Hufflepuffs Ludwig Beilschmidt and Feliciano Vargas – were often too busy with other things.

That day, Arthur came walking into the library with a rather resigned look to his face. He took a seat at the table next to Kiku's and opened his Potions textbook. Kiku had heard that Arthur was good at Potions, and he vaguely considered going up to the Brit and asking for help.

He tried to concentrate on his studies, but he couldn't help but look over at Arthur. The Brit's thick eyebrows were furrowed as he wrote away on his parchment. Somehow he managed to make thick eyebrows look attractive.

"Hello," Kiku said quietly, grabbing his books and greeting the other boy, who looked up in slight surprise. His eyes were green, like a grassy field on a sunny day. Kiku found himself blushing at his own daring.

"Hello," Arthur replied pleasantly, "who are you?"

* * *

Arthur, much to Kiku's own surprise, had turned from an attractive acquaintance to an attractive study partner.

"H-have you heard of this potion?" Kiku asked one night as they sat side-by-side in the library. "Amorentia. I-It's the most powerful l-love potion in the world."

"Yes, it's infamous," Arthur agreed, leaning back in his seat and loosening his green-and-silver tie slightly. His hair was unruly as usual; he ran a hand through it to brush his bangs out of his eyes. Kiku felt as if a part of him was melting away at that slight gesture. "However, it's not a true love potion."

"H-how so?" Kiku asked, a curious expression on his face.

Arthur's voice suddenly seemed to take a dive into the husky end. "Amorentia can't create _love_, you see. There is no way to manufacture love. However, Amorentia does create infatuation. Obsession. _Desire_…" he trailed off, green eyes thoughtful. Kiku hoped with all his heart that Arthur couldn't feel the heat radiating off his cheeks.

Was he infatuated with Arthur? That could be true. Arthur was attractive; he'd already established that.

"A-a-and that's not a substitute for love in what way?" he stuttered. Arthur tapped his chin with a finger.

"Let's see, then. Infatuation's more for the outside – your appearance, your outward personality, your first impression. Love develops when you look past the outside. When you appreciate someone for who they are on the inside, then you love them."

Kiku looked away, nodding. "I-I see," he replied.

So was it infatuation? He would have to get to know Arthur better before he passed judgement. The rational side of Kiku said that much – at this rate his diary would turn into a lab notebook.

The emotional side of Kiku screamed of love, and he couldn't back away from that idea either.


	3. The Library Incident

**Summary:** He didn't expect it. But then again, Francis had always danced outside his expectations.

* * *

**The Library Incident**

"Arthur." Francis's face peered at Arthur from in between several Transfiguration books on a shelf. Arthur glowered at the other, cheeks reddening.

"What do you want, Grenouille?" he demanded, slamming the books together to obscure the Frenchman's face.

"Help, with my homework," Francis replied, sliding the books apart. "It's for Transfiguration."

"Why the bloody hell would I help you with that? It's not my strong point," snapped Arthur, slamming the books together again. Francis pushed them apart, expression desperate.

"Arthur, the class is right after lunch, and I have no idea how to answer the chapter sixteen questions!"

"You shouldn't procrastinate!" Arthur growled, shoving the books and walking away. Francis waylaid him at the end of the bookshelf, pressing him against a couple of old spell dictionaries.

"Arthur, please," pleaded the Frenchman. "You're my friend, non? And you're going to be an Animagus, which means that you know a bit more about Transfiguration than me."

Arthur snorted, looking up into Francis's cerulean eyes. "That's true, but why would I help you?" He couldn't help but blush as he said that. It wasn't _fair_ how beautiful the Frenchman could be when he looked so beseeching! For a fleeting second, Arthur wished that Francis could be like that more often.

"S'il te plaît, Arthur? For a friend?" Francis wheedled. Arthur looked away sullenly.

"Fine. You better not procrastinate next time, you lousy git." He dragged the Frenchman down the aisle to a table with chairs backed against the window, taking a seat and pulling out his Transfiguration homework. "What do you need help on?"

Francis, with a grateful look, took out his own homework and pointed to a fair dozen questions. "The ones on living-to-nonliving transformation," he said solemnly. Arthur sighed and looked at his own responses.

"Do you not understand the theory or the question?" he asked, but Francis's blank expression gave him the answer. "Fine. The theory behind living-to-nonliving transformation, like a beetle to a button, is that when you release magical energy by saying the incantation, the energy of the spell itself is directed towards a living creature. It attacks the atomic composition of the creature, shifting atoms and subatomic particles around to form new substances. Even Muggles know that you can't create or destroy matter. So, in a sense we take the living tissue of a creature and we rearrange the atomic composition in that tissue to form nonliving substances in lieu of destroying the creature and recreating something nonliving in its place."

Francis frowned. "So you're saying that the magic is used to rearrange atoms and subatomic particles. But how does magic know what to do with each incantation?"

"Because magic is energy, it has to be channelled. Therefore, the incantation provides a channel for the magical energy, essentially telling it what to do once it hits the target. That's part of the reason why some spells show colourful light or sparks when they manifest themselves."

"I… see…" mumbled Francis, his hand flying over the parchment as he answered the questions. "What about this one? 'Explain, in detail, the process of turning a bird into a water-glass.' Do I have to explain how the atoms are rearranged?"

"Well, according to Muggle 'Chemistry' books – that's like their version of Potions, you know – glass is made up of silicon, oxygen, sodium, calcium, carbon, and some other elements like magnesium and aluminium. Birds, on the other hand, are mostly made of carbon. However, you can find trace amounts of silicon, sodium, and calcium in them, not to mention that they require oxygen to live. So when you say the incantation for transforming a bird into a water-glass, you are telling the magic to spread into every cell of that bird, to rearrange the carbon, silicon, sodium, calcium, and oxygen atoms within the cells, and even to take subatomic particles from other atoms to form the ones you need."

Francis was muttering under his breath as he wrote down the answer. "I see," he said after a minute. "McGonagall didn't go in depth about this during the lecture."

"That's because you were too busy daydreaming, you oblivious git," Arthur snapped. Francis chuckled.

"I'll concede that," he replied, and before Arthur could even look smug, the Frenchman was kissing him again, pressing him against the window with his hands expertly wandering down the Brit's body.

"Francis!" Arthur gasped in horror as they broke apart for air. "What the bloody hell do you think you're – _mmph_!" Francis had silenced him with his lips, fingers snaking down and grabbing his arse. Arthur jerked upward in surprise, arching into Francis on the way. His green eyes widened.

_Bloody hell, the Frog has a horn_! Arthur could feel it pressing against his leg. Part of him was not surprised; Francis was in heat almost twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. The other part of him – and Arthur was frankly horrified at that part – _liked_ the thought of him, Arthur Kirkland, turning someone else on.

"Arthur," growled Francis, blue eyes darkened. Arthur had a feeling he knew what the Frenchman wanted.

"Not here, you dolt!" the Brit snapped. "And not now, because I have a boyfriend – a fact that you seem to have conveniently forgotten, you bloody useless wanker!" Though part of him protested, he reached out and shoved Francis away. _Well, isn't this one hell of a clusterfuck_, he thought as he mentally beat the protesting side with a two-by-four.

Francis had a crestfallen air about him as Arthur shoved past him on the way out the library. Arthur noticed, but he pointedly ignored it.

When Alfred came to greet him with a slightly strained smile, Arthur said nothing to him, either.

**

* * *

Notes:** This is in fourth year, around the Christmas chapter.

Some Brit slang that might require translation:

"horn" = erection

"clusterfuck" = a messy situation


	4. The House on Chicken Feet

**Summary:** And this is why you do not wander in the Russian forest at nightfall, kiddos.

* * *

**The House on Chicken Feet**

It was twilight. The sky was dyed a deep, dramatic indigo, silhouetting the pine trees in the forest. Three little children wandered through the woods – one was a tall boy, with a scarf wrapped around his neck. The other two were girls, holding onto his hands nervously.

"Ivan, we're lost," one of the girls whimpered. She had short grey-blonde hair and a worried expression on her kindly face. "We'll miss supper at this rate and Papa Winter'll be cross with us."

"I know where I'm going, Kat," Ivan Braginski insisted. The girl at his other side, the one with her long silvery-blonde hair tied back with a ribbon, said nothing.

Kat – or Yekaterina Braginskaya – sniffled. "But I don't want Papa to send us to bed without any supper! And it's all for your sunflower field!"

"My sunflowers are very important to me, you know," Ivan replied matter-of-factly. They continued to walk past rows and rows of trees as the light faded into darkness. A wind blew at their hair, making Ivan's scarf flutter behind them like a pale ghost.

The wind blew harder and harder, making the trees around them creak and groan. Leaves whipped through the air, followed by blood-curdling screeches. Ivan continued to walk with his sisters in tow, not minding the screams and the wind.

"Ivan, are you sure?" Kat whispered.

"Positive," the Russian boy replied tersely.

A giant thing spun past them suddenly, keening and wailing. It came to a sudden stop in the middle of their path, and the three siblings realised that it was a giant hut on two chicken legs.

"Babayaga's hut!" the other girl exclaimed, eyes wide. Ivan continued to walk towards the hut, skirting around the bony fence that sprouted out of the earth like white saplings. Little skulls adorned the tops; there were flickers of light within them.

The hut had its back turned to the three. Ivan advanced towards the gate, calling, "Turn your back to the forest, your front to me!" And suddenly, as if the windows had eyes and ears, the house raised itself up on its chicken feet and turned so that the door was facing them.

The two girls paled. "Ivan!" hissed Kat. "Ivan, please don't go inside!"

But Ivan was fascinated by the hut. He had only heard of the story of Babayaga, the old hag who lived in a hut on chicken legs and ate children for her meals. Being a boy who was often too curious about dangerous things, he ignored his sister's pleadings and walked right up to the gate, looking at the house.

A wild cackle resounded from next to them. Ivan turned to see a wizened old hag steering her way to them in a giant mortar. She was as bony as her fence, and when she smiled in the eerie light of the skull-lanterns, her metallic teeth twinkled. "Why hello there," she wheezed, peering down a long nose at the three. Snapping her fingers, a silver birch broom swept away some leaves. "Did you come of your own free will, or were you sent?"

"Of our own free will," Ivan replied confidently.

"But we got lost," Kat cut in. "So please, don't eat us!"

"Eat you?" the hag cackled. "Silly dears! Come in, come in." She opened the gate, letting the three siblings file past her.

Babayaga's hut was sparsely furnished save for one giant cauldron in the centre of the room. The two girls eyed it apprehensively as their brother confidently strode up to a bony-looking chair and sat down.

"So, little ones, tell me your names," Babayaga cackled, poking at the flame at the base of the cauldron.

"I am Ivan Braginski, son of Papa Winter," Ivan answered. "And these are my sisters, Yekaterina and Nataliya."

"Charming dears!" the hag giggled and wheezed, causing Nataliya and Yekaterina to look at each other apprehensively. "Would you three like to help a poor old woman tend to her chores?"

"Of course," Ivan replied before his sisters could answer.

So they immediately found themselves tending to the fire and sorting out wild peas from wheat. It was tedious work, but Nataliya and Yekaterina managed to sort the peas while Ivan stoked the fire. Babayaga sat in a giant armchair, knitting with needles that looked more like ribs.

"You helpful dears!" she exclaimed, as Nataliya and Yekaterina finished their tasks. "Now Ivan, will you be so kind as to test the water in the cauldron for me?"

That sent alarm bells through Nataliya and Yekaterina's minds, but they could only look on helplessly as Ivan nodded and Babayaga brought him a ladder. Their dear brother! Sometimes he could be so woefully clueless, especially when his life was on the line!

"The water looks quite hot," Ivan said as he climbed up high enough to look over the edge. Babayaga watched him, licking her lips and looking like a wolf reading a cookbook. "I think it'll be nice for wild pea soup, don't you agree?"

"Quite lovely, son, I do agree," the hag replied as she ascended the ladder behind Ivan, intending on pushing him in. Nataliya blanched.

"Brother!" she screamed, "Brother, look out –"

But Babayaga's arms shot out and she pushed Ivan into the cauldron. "It'll be twice as delicious with you in it, my darling!" she cooed from the edge, as Ivan spluttered and floundered at the surface. "You've got more meat on your bones than your sisters combined! I think I'll have you for dinner, and then your dear sisters for breakfast!"

"Nyet!" Ivan exclaimed, splashing. "You can have me, but leave my sisters alone!"

Babayaga paled, her knuckles gripping the ladder tightly. "Are you a blessed one?" she exclaimed, as Nataliya crept up the ladder. Ivan didn't answer her. "Are you a blessed one, stupid boy?" the hag screeched.

"Da, he is!" Nataliya screamed from behind the hag, before she grabbed a knife that she always had in the pocket of her pinafore and stabbed Babayaga from behind. The hag screamed a blood-curdling scream; Yekaterina clapped her hands to her mouth and nearly fainted. Nataliya pulled out her knife and reached out to the hag's knuckles, pressing down on each one until they broke. "You will not harm my dear brother! Never, never, never!"

And when she cracked the last knuckle, she shoved the hag into the cauldron. Ivan, his eyes wide, swam towards her hesitantly

"Spasibo, Nataliya," he gasped as the girl helped him out of the cauldron. "The water was scorching hot. I didn't think I would last as long as I did."

"That matters not, dear Brother. As long as you are alive and by my side, I will not care for anything else." Nataliya's face was grave. Yekaterina found a blanket in a wooden chest; the sister draped it over their brother.

"What is a blessed one?" Ivan asked suddenly, as he sat down in the giant armchair.

"Someone protected by love, virtue, or a mother's blessing," Yekaterina replied solemnly. "Babayaga fears them."

Ivan fell silent. "Love," he repeated, looking at Nataliya. The girl nodded.

"I love you, Brother. You know that. I will never leave your side."

"I know," Ivan replied. "That goes to both of you, then. Never leave my side. Pozhaluĭsta? Whatever else you do, never leave me."

"We promise," Yekaterina whispered, as the cauldron bubbled away behind them.

* * *

**Notes:** And that is my BHL explanation for why Nat is obsessed with her brother. Hey, if your brother was on the verge of being eaten by a manic hag, you'd become paranoid about him, too.

Babayaga is the Potterverse version of Baba Yaga, a witch-hag-Earth Mother-what have you in Slavic folklore who either eats children or helps people on their journeys. If you ask her a question, she ages – but that's a process reversed by blue rose tea. Three horsemen in red, black, and white usually accompany her. Koschei the Deathless is another one of her occasional companions.


	5. Magic Works

**Summary:** Fourth Year. Arthur and Alfred share a moment with Weird Sisters music.

**

* * *

Magic Works**

Arthur Kirkland leaned against Alfred F. Jones' shoulder. They were sitting in the Gryffindor common room, no one else noticing the thick-browed Slytherin on the couch near the hearth. It was raining outside; it had been raining outside for the past week.

"Let's go up to the dorms," Alfred said after a moment, standing up and extending his hand. He wore his bomber jacket over his uniform as usual, but no one ever commented. Arthur wasn't in the mood to start that debate, so he took the American's hand. Together they headed up the stairs to the fourth year boys' dorms. Thankfully, it was empty inside.

Arthur looked around him at the hangings and posters. Red and gold predominated, but there were also a few posters of various Quidditch teams and Wizarding rock bands. Over one bed was a giant picture of a cat, surrounded by posters of extremely hairy wizards with guitars.

"Who likes the Weird Sisters?" the Brit asked, walking up to the nightstand to look at the posters closely.

"Heracles Karpusi," the American replied with a chuckle. "He already pre-ordered the new album _By the Pricking of My Thumbs_, which comes out in the spring."

"I'm looking forward to hearing some of those songs on the line-up that they released over the wireless last week," Arthur admitted, taking a seat on the Greek boy's bed. "Did you hear their new single?"

"That song called 'Magic Works', right? It's the first track on the new album," Alfred beamed. "Heracles has a radio in here somewhere." He rummaged around the room, poking into other peoples' trunks. After tossing aside yet another catnip toy in Heracles' trunk, Alfred straightened up with the radio triumphantly held aloft.

The next problem was to find the right channel. Alfred twiddled the dials, tapping the radio occasionally with his wand as he went. "No, that's Greek… still Greek… French… Armenian… Chinese… news… Muggle politics… aha!" He finally found the station that played popular music; at the moment, Celestina Warbeck was singing 'A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love'.

The last warbles died out, and the announcer came on again. "Now, back by popular demand – the new hit single by the Weird Sisters! This is 'Magic Works', first single in their upcoming album _By the Pricking of My Thumbs_ – enjoy!"

"Coincidence, don't you think?" Arthur asked with a laugh as the song began to play. Alfred shrugged.

"It's played almost every other song; that's how popular it is," he replied, taking Arthur's hands and pulling him up. "Come on, Artie, let's dance!"

They started to sway slowly to the music. "_And dance_," sang Arthur quietly, "_your final dance. This is your final chance_."

"_To hold_," Alfred continued, blue eyes kind and warm as he looked into Arthur's; the Brit felt flutters in his stomach. "_The one you love – you know you've waited long enough_."

Arthur rested his head on Alfred's shoulder. "_So, believe_," the two sang together, "_that magic works; don't be afraid of being hurt_." They weren't really dancing as much as they were just rocking back and forth in each other's arms, but Arthur thought it was enough. The song's tempo was slow enough for that.

"_Don't let this magic die_," Alfred pleaded, causing Arthur to look up into his eyes. The raw emotion in the American's cornflower eyes shocked him. So much love…

"_The answer's there_," the Brit answered. "_Just look in my eyes_."

Alfred laughed at that, causing Arthur to glare at him. "And that's why I love this song," Alfred mumbled as he kissed Arthur. "Every time I hear it, I think of you," he added against Arthur's lips, causing the Brit to shiver – and not in a bad way.

"Th-thanks," Arthur mumbled once they broke apart, cheeks heating up.

Blame it on his pride, but he would never tell Alfred that he thought the same.

**

* * *

Notes:** Yay, now all the main Arthur pairings have a drabble. /shot

"Magic Works" is actually a song by Jarvis Cocker and co.; I don't own that song, although I'd love to. It's so pretty. You can find it in the _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_ soundtrack.

Another random trivial fact: the Weird Sisters are in _Macbeth_. Macbeth calls three witches the "weird sisters"; I therefore assume that Rowling took the inspiration for the group name from there. So the album _By the Pricking of My Thumbs_ is also in relation to the Weird Sisters because that's a line they say.


	6. Five Awesome Things

**Summary:** Exactly what it says on the tin. Happy Birthday, Gilbert.

**

* * *

Five Awesome Things that Gilbert Beilschmidt Did as a Ghost**

_Being dead_, thought Gilbert Beilschmidt, _has its perks after all_. He had thought, at first, that being dead meant having no more fun. But that wasn't the case now.

Death never could stop the awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt, anyways.

**

* * *

Awesome Thing Number One: Haunting Roderich**

Roderich Edelstein thought he was going to spend an afternoon playing Chopin on his Steinway and Sons grand piano.

He should have thought again.

"Ooooooo, I'm the ghost of the awesome Gilbert, oh yes I am," a voice resounded through the air, cutting through the beautiful classical melodies. Roderich slammed his hands onto the keys, abruptly ending the piece.

"Will you stop that?" he demanded of thin air. "He is dead, and you're not going to trick me into thinking otherwise!" And with that, he started to play Chopin's Prelude in E minor.

"You played that piece at my funeral, didn't you?" Gilbert's ghost asked, grinning from ear to ear as he floated to a rest on top of the piano. Roderich looked up and paled.

"Gilbert?" he asked, frowning. "What reason do you have for coming back?"

In a very Cheshire Cat-like way, Gilbert faded until all that remained was his leer. "I don't know, but you're being haunted by the most awesome ghost ever! Kesesesese!"

**

* * *

Awesome Thing Number Two: Annoying Peeves**

It was another normal afternoon for Peeves the Poltergeist, resident terror of Hogwarts Castle. He bounced from wall to wall, loosened up the carpets, and taught the new first years some dirty jokes.

"Kesesese! That's not what that means!" a new voice broke in, and Peeves straightened up to glare at Gilbert Beilschmidt's ghost, who had appeared out of nowhere with his usual grin.

"Ahaha, so the new ghostie thinks he knows better?" Peeves demanded, whizzing backwards and looping around tauntingly. Gilbert cackled and dive-bombed through the first years before rising up and tackling Peeves.

"Ja, of course the awesome me knows what 'that's what she said' means." Gilbert grinned happily.

"Well, then, out with it, ghostie!" Peeves exclaimed, sticking his tongue out at Gilbert.

Gilbert dropped him into the students and floated away with a laugh, yelling "_THAT'S WHAT YOUR MUTTI SAID LAST NIGHT_!" over his shoulder.

Peeves zoomed after the cackling Prussian, teaching the first years some new swear words as he went.

**

* * *

Awesome Thing Number Three: Bothering Arthur**

"I am Arthur, your new Potions Master," Arthur Kirkland intoned as he stepped up to the chalkboard, writing out his name before whirling around to face the students, a smirk on his face. "I was in Slytherin during my time at Hogwarts; I became a Prefect and then Head Boy. I am considered a friend of Harry Potter's. And if you make _one_ crack about unicorns in my class, I will have you in detention faster than you can say 'faerie'."

"What is it with you and unicorns anyways, Artie?" Gilbert demanded. Arthur stepped back, eyes wide with surprise as Gilbert hovered above his cauldron with a grin. "I mean, did you have an affair with one or –"

"That's quite enough from you, Gilbo," Arthur snapped, reaching out and trying to swat him away. Gilbo giggled, rising up and sitting on Arthur's head. The class giggled. Arthur glowered up at the Prussian ghost, but continued with his lecture.

"Today, we will be going over the basic ingredients in Potions making," he began to say, but Gilbert poked him.

"Bother!"

"Stop," Arthur growled, and in a louder voice he continued, "Some essential ingredients to Potions are: newt eyes, frog toes, bat wool, dog tongues, blind-worm stings, lizard legs, owlet wings, Mandrake roots –"

"Bother! Bother! Bother, bother, bother!"

"Gilbert!" shrieked Arthur. "Gilbert, if you don't behave I'm calling the Bloody Baron!"

"That silly old Baron would be no match for the awesome me! Bother! Bother! Bother!"

**

* * *

Awesome Thing Number Four: Reuniting with West**

Ludwig hadn't been himself for days.

Gilbert knew, because he overheard Feliciano talking to Lovino about it.

"Why did Gil have to go? Why did he die and not me? He was the best friend I ever had. Why him?" Survivor's guilt weighed on Ludwig's heart, and while part of Gilbert loved the attention, the other part felt guilty.

Oh so fucking guilty. And feeling guilt was unawesome.

"Luddy," he whispered to the room, and Ludwig turned around, rubbing his eyes. They were bloodshot, and even as Gilbert neared he could see the tears threatening to spill. "Luddy, you all right?"

"Nein," Ludwig choked out, and Gilbert sighed.

"I'm sorry, Bruder. I'm so sorry."

"You can't be sorry for dying, Gil," Ludwig replied, his voice stuffy with emotion.

"Then don't cry, you unawesome turd! Come on, smile a little! The awesome me's still here!" And Gilbert reached out, but his fingers poked right into Ludwig's cheek. The German laughed, and Gilbert couldn't help but smile as well.

"Ich liebe Dich," Ludwig mumbled through a watery smile.

Gilbert laughed. "Ich liebe Dich auch."

**

* * *

Awesome Thing Number Five: Confessing to Elisabeta**

"Hey, Eliza! Didja miss me?"

Elisabeta Hedérváry looked up from her camera to see a transparent figure bearing a likeness to her dead ex-boyfriend, Gilbert Beilschmidt.

"Gilbo!" she exclaimed, setting down her camera and walking over to him. "You came back!" There were so many emotions on her face, each one running across her features like a fast-paced film. Gilbert smiled, reaching out for her.

Her hand slid through his, but she smiled at him nonetheless. "How does it feel?" she asked quietly. "Dying. Was it painful?"

"Naw, it's actually rather awesome. It's like sleep, but longer. Don't be too sad about the awesome me, okay?"

"I'm not _that_ sad," she replied with a pout. "I mean, you should have seen me at the funeral. That was sad."

"I did see you there," Gilbert replied, his transparent face getting a little more opaque as he said that. "Elisa, you know I'll never leave you, right?"

"Pff, but you did, you dolt," she snapped good-naturedly, trying to punch his arm but only managing to punch through it. Gilbert cackled.

"So I did, but now I'll never leave you, ever again." And there was so much honesty in that sentence that Elisabeta felt tears spring into her eyes; she wiped them away quickly and tried to smile again.

Gilbert smiled simply – not a leer, not a smirk, not a Cheshire Cat grin. Just a smile.

"You idiot," Elisabeta muttered as he tried to kiss her forehead. "I love you, too."

* * *

So while at first Gilbert thought it was the worst state of affairs yet, he eventually realised that being a ghost was probably one of the awesomest things ever.

Going through walls, haunting people, even being there for those who needed him still – all in all, Gilbert Beilschmidt thought he was still pretty awesome, even as a ghost.

The awesome Gilbert laughed in the face of Death, after all.

* * *

**Notes:** So sorry about the latest development in ND. Happy Birthday, Gilbo. (or should that be deathday now? hurhur /bricked)

And if you hadn't picked it up, the third Awesome Thing was inspired by the Potter Puppet Pals.


	7. Nine Eleven

**Summary:** "Then came the day Osama blew us away, Osama blew us away…" – U.K. _Skins _season 2, episode 2

**Warnings:** 9/11 stuff, so if you're triggered by that, don't read.

* * *

**Nine/Eleven**

Professor Alfred F. Jones strode into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom with a smile on his face. It was the eleventh of September, early in the morning. He was teaching his favourite subject at the Salem Witches' Institute, and it was just another morning.

"Professor Jones, you look cheerful. Is it your girlfriend?" someone asked. Alfred laughed. He had been openly seeing Nataliya Arlovskaya, a reporter for the acclaimed Wizarding magazine called the _Thunderbird_, for three years already. Before that, they had to keep their affairs a secret from her brother Ivan. Nataliya had been a former Death Eater, but she and several of her peers had been forced to join Voldemort's faction at Ivan's command. Now the Dark Lord was dead, and Nataliya had moved in with Alfred.

"How many times have I told you all to call me Al?" he demanded good-naturedly as he took a seat on his desk, twirling his wand. "And no, surprisingly enough, it's not Nat today."

"When are you going to get married to her?" a girl asked curiously, "and what're you thinking about, then?"

"One question at a time, Annie!" Alfred exclaimed, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "First off, I have no answer for the first question, and secondly, I was thinking about May 2!" 2 May 2002 was the fourth anniversary of the day Harry Potter defeated Voldemort, and his best friend Arthur Kirkland had invited him to the celebratory feast at Hogwarts.

"But that's like eight months off!" a boy exclaimed, scandalised.

Alfred sniggered. "I know, you think it's a bazillion years away." He got up and walked up to the blackboard. "Alright, then! We're covering Patronuses today! Can anyone tell me what you use a Patronus for?"

"Communication," one girl said immediately.

"Good, but that's not its main function," Alfred answered. "Anyone else?"

There were blank faces, before a boy raised his hand.

"Yes, Patrick?" Alfred asked.

"Protection against Dementors," Patrick replied, nervously grinning. "Right?"

"Awesome! Yes, that's the most important thing a Patronus does! It protects you against Dementors! Now, what does the Dementor do?"

"It sucks out your happy memories!" the first girl answered eagerly.

"Exactly, Annie! The Patronus is a neutral force, like one of those cool force fields in those new Muggle movies, y'know? The bad guy attacks the force field, but he only bounces off it because he can't get through to the good guy! So when you meet a Dementor – _if_ you meet a Dementor – this is the force field you set up against it. Here's the incantation: _Expecto patronum_." As he said that, the American felt a slight twinge of pain in his chest. He shrugged it off.

"Expecto patronum," chanted the class.

"Good," Alfred replied, one hand clutching his desk as he tried his hardest to ignore the increasing agony in his chest. "The next thing – and the probably more important than the magic words – is a happy memory." He gasped for air; the entire class stiffened.

"Alfred?" Annie asked worriedly.

"A-a-a happy memory will… be the fuel for the Patronus – it…" Why was it suddenly so hard to breathe? "By projecting this memory – away from you – in the… shape… of a Patronus…" he coughed and wheezed for air, clutching his chest. His voice was hoarse as he attempted to finish his sentence, but his brain was fogging up. "The… Dementor… will feast on that instead –" He collapsed, and pandemonium broke out.

"Professor Jones!" several students cried. "Are you all right?" Several other students gathered around him; Alfred dimly saw someone run out the door as he gasped for air like a fish out of water. His vision started to dim, but his heart raced in panic.

The last thing he heard before he blacked out were footsteps, and a familiar voice crying his name.

* * *

When Alfred woke up, he heard two familiar voices. For a moment, he kept his eyes closed, wondering where he was.

"St. Mungos works wonders," Arthur Kirkland's voice was saying. "I think Kiku will have his lungs fully mended within the hour, but he'll have to stay here for a few days. But honestly, Nat, you didn't need to Apparate him here."

"Like you just said, Arthur, St. Mungos works wonders. The hospitals back there are, to be frank, absolutely horrible," Nataliya Arlovskaya's voice replied. "And I really don't trust their Healers with Al's lungs. Kiku's a safer option."

"Well, that's true," Arthur's voice sounded slightly amused. "Youngest full-time Healer in a decade or so, a Nation, and an avid scholar of associative magic like the type that collapsed Alfred's lungs." There was a note of pride in his voice as he said that.

"I hope you didn't marry him for that," Nataliya's voice was also amused. "Oh look, he's stirring."

Alfred opened his eyes. The world was blurry for a moment before someone placed his glasses on his face. There was Nataliya, beautiful even with her makeup running down her face. Next to her was Arthur, thick browed and grumpy-looking as ever.

"You all right, mate?" Arthur asked, green eyes worrying as he reached out and felt Alfred's forehead. "Any problems with breathing?" A golden ring shone on his finger, glinting in the hospital light.

Alfred tried a few experimental deep breaths. "Just a few stabs of pain," he mumbled, sinking against his pillow and reaching out to take Nataliya's hand. "What happened? I heard something about my lungs."

Nataliya and Arthur immediately stiffened. "Merlin's beard, where to begin," Arthur breathed, face pale. "This morning, in New York…"

"The Twin Towers," continued Nataliya. "You know, the World Trade Centre…"

"They were attacked," Arthur added, and at that Alfred jerked upright, but Nataliya pushed him back down. "By hijacked planes that crashed into the side… and the towers fell."

"And my lungs collapsed because of that?" Alfred asked, his voice choked with emotion. "How many casualties?"

"We don't know the total death toll yet," Nataliya replied, her expression worried as she stroked his hand. "They're still trying to rescue people from the wreckage."

"You were lucky you didn't suffer significant brain damage as well," Arthur added, patting Alfred's quilt-covered calf. "The attackers also damaged part of the Pentagon and had it not been for a few heroic citizens, the White House would have been bombed as well."

"The White House!" Alfred exclaimed in horror, his heartbeat picking up. Arthur shushed him.

"It's all right now," he said soothingly, even though Alfred didn't believe his words one bit. It wouldn't be all right. It would never be all right.

He looked at Nataliya, who was rubbing at her eyes with a sniffle. A chair moved, and Arthur stood up.

"I trust that you'll be on the mend soon, with my husband tending to you," the thick-browed Briton said lightly as he grabbed his hat. The door to Alfred's room opened, admitting said husband. Kiku Honda waved slightly as he wheeled a trolley up to the foot of Alfred's bed. "I have to return to Hogwarts; I've got a double Potions class to teach. Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, third year." He smiled slightly.

"Thanks, Artie, for being here for me," Alfred mumbled, as Kiku poured him a glass of slightly smoking potion.

"No problem, Alfred." Arthur walked back to Alfred's bedside and kissed his forehead. "Get some rest, you bloody git. It'll help the healing process," he muttered as he leaned back up and walked over to his Japanese husband, kissing him on the lips. With that, he was gone. Kiku flushed a brilliant scarlet as Alfred raised an eyebrow at him.

"J-just drink the p-potion, Alfred-san," Kiku grumbled as he handed the glass to the American.

* * *

**Notes:** I have to thank a BHL reviewer for this – I think it was **DeepBlueInk** – because they asked if I would write about 9/11 affecting Alfred in BHL/ND. So here it is.


	8. A Book with Bad Bite

**Summary:** America's fascination with vampires has seeped into its Wizarding communities. And the vampires and werewolves aren't too pleased about that.

* * *

(The following is an excerpt from _The Thunderbird_ on October 13, 2005, in the Arts section.)

**A Book with Bad Bite**

_Vampires and werewolves are already filing lawsuits against the writer of the latest vampire romance novel on Wizarding bookshelves. Here's why they're doing it._

By Nataliya Jones

Beneath the setting sun in Forks, Washington, a young heroine named Elizabeth Byrd falls for a tall, dark, and handsome vampire named Edmund Cucinotta. At the same time, a young werewolf from London named James Grey falls in love with Elizabeth. This is the plotline of Corona Scriven's new romance novel, _Beneath the Setting Sun_, and already within a week of its release, the vampires and werewolves are protesting.

Vampire Belladonna Sangfroid and werewolf Gaius Blevins were the first to file a lawsuit against Scriven; they did so on October 12 on the grounds of harassment. "We get enough cr*p from the government for attacking Muggles," says Sangfroid. "We don't need the extra publicity for being inaccurately portrayed in romance novels."

Inaccurate portrayal is an understatement. In _Beneath the Setting Sun_, the vampires are suddenly impervious to everything, including Unforgivable Curses. Considering that they are undead, curses usually don't work against them anyways – but here, they shrug off _Avada Kedavra_ with impunity and go on to break arms and bash in heads. But they never do that to their human prey, because they don't prey on humans.

"What is this, I don't even!" exclaims Sangfroid as she angrily points to the title of the offending book. "Why is the Cucinotta family feeding on animals? They don't taste nearly as good – even Pumpkin Pasties taste better than animal blood!"

The werewolves are complaining about the same thing. In the novel, they are portrayed almost like Animagi; they can turn into wolves at will and keep their wits about them in animal form. They are also considered the "guardians of Forks" from vampires like the Cucinotta family.

"I just don't f*cking believe it," Blevins complains as he lounges on Sangfroid's plush black velvet chaise. "Ms. Scrivens is supposed to be a witch. She's supposed to know what we are and what dangers we present to society. When the full moon comes up, I'm a monster, not a psychotic tea-drinking Brit with anxiety issues."

Within days of publication, _Beneath the Setting Sun_ has become a hit with the younger generation of witches and wizards. Salem Institute's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher Alfred F. Jones reports that he often catches students reading it during his classes.

"I mean, I totally get why they like it – it's a popular thing in the Muggle world, too. All the Muggle girls I've met are absolutely gaga about vampires now," he says to me over a dinner of hamburger casserole. "You walk into a Muggle bookstore and bam! All those vampire romances, right there on the front table. Complete with apples and bloodstained flowers. I miss the superhero craze now."

This concern over their newfound popularity has driven other vampires and werewolves like Sangfroid and Blevins to sue Scriven for harassment and damages, amongst other things.

"I met a Muggle girl at Port Angeles the other night," recalls vampire Miklós Báthory, who apparently gets his taste for blood from his dear mother Elizabeth, "who asked me if I was a vampire. I didn't know how to respond – I mean, I _am_, but what would she say to that? But then she went on and said that she was dying to meet a vampire, and I really looked like one of the vampires in her favorite book, and all this time I'm standing there feeling really awkward."

So why are the vampires and werewolves suing? They believe that _Beneath the Setting Sun_ portrays them wrong, and that inaccurate portrayal leads to unwanted popularity.

Werewolf Soranus Farkas agrees. "I've always been happy being me," he says. "I'm fine just the way I am. I've accepted that every month I have to change; I lose myself in the woods and eat owls, mice, and stray hikers all night when the full moon's up. I've learned to live with my problems, but now Ms. Scrivens has given me a whole new set of them."

Maybe Ms. Scrivens should make sure her protection spells aren't faulty. _Beneath the Setting Sun_'s release date in the United Kingdom and Europe, where most vampires and werewolves live, is on Halloween. If modern Wizarding history's most famous werewolf, Remus Lupin, ever hears about this novel, he might just come back from the dead (like a vampire) and sue Scrivens as well.

**

* * *

Notes:** So, did anyone notice the _Twilight_ bashing? Twilight is essentially late sunset/early evening, so 'beneath the setting sun' is just a purple-prose version of twilight.

Corona Scrivens is a play on Stephenie Meyer's name – Stephenie comes from Stephen, which means 'crown' in Greek; Corona means 'crown' in Latin. Scrivens is just an occupational surname for 'writer'.

Elizabeth Byrd takes her first name from Elizabeth Báthory. She is also a bit of a play on Elizabeth Swann from _Pirates of the Caribbean_ as well as Bella Swan (because swans are birds, geddit?). Both have a bunch of guys after them romantically, after all. But, of course, Lizzie's better than Bella. Everyone's better than Bella.

Edmund Cucinotta is a play on Edward Cullen, of course. There's no specific meaning to his name, because Cucinotta means 'little kitchen' in Italian… maybe those vampires also eat very bloody steaks?

James Grey, of course, is Jacob Black. James and Jacob both come from Latin – _Iacomus_ and _Iacobus_, respectively. The Latin names in turn come from Greek (Iakobos) and then Hebrew (Ya'aqov). Grey versus Black is self-explanatory.

**Other vampire and werewolf references:**

Belladonna Sangfroid: Belladonna is a toxic plant also known as Deadly Nightshade; it was used to dilate pupils. Sangfroid is French (sang-froid) for 'cold-blooded'.

Gaius Blevins: Gaius Petronius wrote a novel called _Satyricon_ around the year 60; one of the characters in that novel talks about a man who turns into a wolf at the full moon. Blevins means 'wolf cub' in Welsh.

Miklós Báthory: Elizabeth Báthory, one of the most notorious serial killers in history, was rumoured to have bathed in the blood of her young, female victims to preserve her own youth. Miklós was her youngest son.

Soranus Farkas: Soranus is a Sabian god of the underworld who identifies with Lupas the She-Wolf. Farkas means 'wolf' in Hungarian.


	9. Nineteen Years Later

**Summary:** Arthur and Kiku's adopted Muggle daughter visits Hogwarts.

**

* * *

Nineteen Years Later**

_31 July 2017_

"Happy Birthday, Harry!"

The cake, lit with thirty-seven candles, floated over to the long picnic table. Harry Potter, sitting at the head, looked down at the mass of glowing candles and smiled. Next to him, his wife Ginny patted his hand with a smile.

"Don't worry, dear, Arthur didn't bake it."

"He wanted to," chipped in Hermione Weasley from next to Ginny, where she was visibly restraining her husband Ron from dive-bombing the cake. "But Ginny and I convinced him that he should just stick to Potions."

"Francis made the cake, actually," Madeline Bonnefois pointed out, kissing her French husband on the cheek. "It's vanilla, with treacle filling. We heard you liked treacle."

"Aw, thanks," Harry mumbled, and his children snickered at him from farther down the table.

They sang him the Happy Birthday song and he blew out the candles, waving his wand after he was done to Vanish them. Arthur Kirkland, standing to Harry's left, flicked his wand to divide the cake amongst the guests.

The vanilla-and-treacle cake tasted delicious, especially with the accompanying ice cream. Ron quickly asked for seconds, much to Hermione's annoyance. Harry merely laughed and sent another slice floating towards his red-haired friend.

"So," Kiku Kirkland asked after Ron settled down with his second (and third) helping, "what have you been up to lately, Harry?"

The dark-haired wizard smiled sheepishly. "Nothing much. We captured the last Death Eater last month. The Auror Office has been pretty calm as of late."

"I certainly hope it stays that way," Kiku agreed, and there were nods all around the table from the adults.

* * *

Meanwhile, the children were having their own little party in their section of the picnic table. "I'm going to Hogwarts this fall," Albus Severus Potter said proudly to Takara Kirkland, the little Anglo-Japanese girl that Arthur and Kiku had adopted fourteen years ago.

Takara – or Taytay, as everyone knew her – wasn't little anymore. She had only been five when her biological parents died, but luckily for her Arthur and Kiku had adopted her that same year. Now she was nineteen, and one of the oldest 'children' at the table.

She and seventeen-year-old Hugh Williams sat side-by-side, across from Ted Lupin and Victoire Weasley. The four of them were the oldest of the second generation; Victoire was Hugh's age and Teddy was Takara's age. The rest of the children were all small compared to them – the oldest of their lot, James Potter (the second), was twelve.

"How is Oxford?" Ted asked Takara, and the Muggle girl smiled and shrugged.

"It's fine. How's your job?"

"Aah, don't remind me." Ted snickered. "I'm still more interested in your school, though. I mean, you're the only Muggle in our group…"

Takara blushed. She knew they were going to mention that. Everyone else was magical, after all, and she was the freak. Not that she minded, because her parents loved her all the same.

Still, it was a bit odd being the adoptive daughter of a gay couple – a gay wizard couple, to boot.

"Well, Oxford's the oldest Muggle university in England," she replied vaguely, and Ted shot her an 'are you serious' look. She rolled her eyes. "Well, you said you were interested in my school," she mumbled.

"I meant the classes. I mean, what do you learn, if you're not learning magic?"

"Teddy! Don't be so nosy!" chided Victoire gently, wrapping her arms around him and looking at Takara apologetically. The black-haired Anglo-Japanese girl smiled a little in reply and started fiddling with her fork.

Ted scowled, his hair going from electric blue to neon green. Victoire shook her head. "I'm sorry about that," the strawberry-blonde said in a stage whisper. "He tends to barge into other people's business."

"It's all right, I'm just really bad at answering questions," Takara mumbled.

"Taytay?" Arthur called from farther down the table. "Do you want another slice of cake?"

"I'm fine, dad," Takara mumbled, looking back at him. Sometimes people didn't believe that she was adopted; she really did look like Arthur and Kiku's child. She had Arthur's eyes and Kiku's hair, after all.

There was still a veil between them. Takara knew her parents loved her, but she also knew that they weren't her real parents. It was hard to remember both at the same time.

_

* * *

1 September 2017_

"Maman, papa, je vous aime," Sébastien Bonnefois said solemnly as the whistle blew. Arthur, Kiku, and Takara stood off to the side, watching the little black-haired boy grab his owl Pierre's cage (Francis had named it), kiss his parents on both cheeks, and jump onto the train. He reappeared in the same compartment as a tall blond boy with blue eyes and glasses – Allen Jones, Alfred and Nataliya's son.

Nataliya and Alfred were giving Allen some last-minute advice; Sébastien poked his head out the window as well and waved at his own parents. Takara watched them. They were all different from her; they were all wizards and Nations. Part of her wanted to cry about it, but she forced down the tears and waved at Albus Severus and his cousin Rose in the next compartment.

"Have fun!" she called; they beamed back at her as the train started to move. At Allen's window, Nataliya and Alfred had started to run after the train, trying to catch a last glimpse of their son.

"Stay safe, Allen!" Nataliya called.

"Be a hero, Allen!" Alfred countered.

"I'll miss you, Albus!" Lily Potter (also the second) hollered at her brother as she chased after the train with her little cousin Hugo Weasley. Harry followed them, waving at Albus and ignoring the stares and whispers.

"Nous t'aimons, Sébastien!" Francis called as the train rounded a corner and disappeared from view. The Hogwarts Express was on its journey to the legendary castle now – a legendary castle that Takara would never see.

"I've got to go back to Hogwarts this afternoon, in time for the Welcoming Feast," Arthur told her after a moment, as everyone else started to leave. "Would you like to come?"

"Of course, dad," the nineteen-year-old replied, her face lighting up like a child on Christmas Day.

* * *

Hogwarts Castle appeared to be a run-down castle when Takara first saw it, but as soon as she stepped within the boundaries of the Muggle-Repelling Charms, her green eyes lit up with wonder.

"It's amazing," she breathed, and Arthur smiled at her.

"It's old, too," he replied, but she laughed.

"I know castles are old, dad," she chuckled, as they went up the path towards the many-turreted castle. The sun was starting to set, dying the sky a myriad of pinks and oranges. "When are the students coming?"

"In about half an hour," Arthur replied with a smile. They walked through the heavy oak doors into the towering Entrance Hall. Takara's jaw dropped.

"All of our family and family friends have been going to this school for as long as they can remember?" she breathed, looking around her. Arthur nodded.

There came the sharp click-clack of boots against stone, and Takara tore her eyes from the ceiling to see a tall, matronly woman dressed in black. She had blonde hair, blue eyes, and a warm smile.

"Arthur, we were wondering when you were going to arrive," the woman said kindly. "We received your owl about the Muggle girl you're bringing. So this is your daughter?" she asked, turning to a blushing Takara.

"Y-yes," stammered the black-haired girl. "I-I'm Takara Kirkland."

"Athena Sapienti, Headmistress of Hogwarts," the woman replied, smiling. "Come along, then. The students will be along soon. Professor Longbottom will show them in."

Takara and Arthur entered the Great Hall; its enchanted ceiling immediately diverted the Muggle girl. "Is this a painted ceiling?" she asked Arthur, pointing upwards.

"No, it's enchanted to look like the sky outside. Quite nice, no?" Arthur laughed and led her to her seat at the High Table. "This is Professor Sapienti's first year as Headmistress; she was appointed to the spot after Professor McGonagall retired last year. She is a very witty and intriguing person, I think." He nodded his head in deference to the blonde, who rolled her eyes good-naturedly and took her seat. Another professor immediately started a conversation with her.

The sky darkened, and as the first stars appeared on the ceiling, the first students began to arrive. Hugh and Victoire were there; Hugh walked over to a table bedecked in yellow and black, while Victoire took her seat at the blue-and-bronze table with her little brother Louis. James soon came in with a group of friends; he sat down at the red-and-gold table. A lot of familiar faces appeared at that table – aside from James, there was Victoire's little sister Dominique and their cousin Molly.

"Gryffindor House is in red and gold," Arthur whispered as more students entered. "That was Alfred and Madeline's House. Hufflepuff House is in yellow and black; that was Matthew and Yekaterina's House."

"I'm not surprised that Hugh's in there, then, since he's their son," Takara whispered back with a giggle. "What about Victoire's?"

"That was your otosan's House," the thick-browed Potions Master replied. "Ravenclaw, home of those who seek knowledge."

"And the last one?" Takara couldn't see a single familiar face at the green-and-silver table. Arthur laughed.

"Slytherin House. That was mine." Arthur waved at someone there. "I'm Head of Slytherin House, too."

Takara nodded, and looked down at her plate. "What happens now?" she asked, as the last students trickled in.

"The Sorting." A round-faced man brought out a stool with an old hat perched on it. As soon as he set it down the doors opened once more, and a line of first year students filed in.

"Look!" Takara exclaimed, pointing into the crowd at the familiar faces. "There's Albus Severus, Rose, Sébastien, and Allen!" Arthur chuckled and lowered her arm. Several students started whispering; the nineteen-year-old started feeling awkward.

The Sorting Hat began to sing, much to Takara's surprise. It sang a song about the four Houses, listing the traits that each exhibited. As it finished, applause rose from the students assembled.

Takara had heard about the Sorting before – in fact, she had heard tales of her parents' misadventures at Hogwarts. It was only now that they all came home to her, only now that she realised how real Hogwarts was.

It was only now that she started to wish that she hadn't been born a Muggle.

"Ackerley, Brendan!" a short, dark-haired wizard called as he read from a scroll. The Sorting had begun.

Takara watched as the first years stumbled forward to try on the Hat. Sometimes the Hat called the House before it even touched their heads, other times it took a long time to deliberate. All of it was suspenseful for Takara as she watched her little friends be Sorted.

"Bonnefois, Sébastien!" There was dear old Sebby, who had slightly tanned skin, dark hair, and warm brown eyes; he was a superb cook already and Takara loved the little dishes he made.

"RAVENCLAW!" the Hat declared, and the boy walked off to sit next to Victoire. Arthur raised both eyebrows.

"Hm, I hadn't expected that. Francis was a Slytherin and Madeline was a Gryffindor," he murmured.

A few moments later, the wizard called out Allen's name. The blond, bespectacled boy walked up to the stool and waved at Hugh at the Hufflepuff table. Takara found it funny that the two cousins would look so much alike – but then again, they were cousins on both sides of their families.

The hat barely touched Allen's head before it yelled, "GRYFFINDOR!"

"Not surprising," Arthur muttered. Takara propped her chin upon her hands and watched.

"Malfoy, Scorpius!" A pale boy with a pointed face sat down and was quickly Sorted into Slytherin.

More names were called, and then the wizard announced Albus's name.

"Potter, Albus Severus."

Whispers filled the room. Takara always found it weird to be friends with an extremely famous yet modest wizard like Harry Potter; he never tried to make himself look important. Albus seemed to have inherited that modesty, because he looked distinctly awkward as he stumbled up to the stool. The Hat was placed on his head; it took a long time deliberating.

"SLYTHERIN!" the Hat finally called, and a collective gasp rang throughout the room. Albus turned and looked up at Arthur, his green eyes doleful. Arthur smiled and – to Takara's surprise – stood up.

He began to clap; Takara looked at her father oddly. Had Arthur gone insane? Arthur was clapping for little Albus Potter because he was Sorted into Slytherin, but why?

Slowly, the rest of the room started to applaud as well. Albus blinked several times and walked towards the Slytherin table, looking very small and unsure of himself. Over at the Gryffindor table, Allen and James shot betrayed looks at his back.

"Why did you do that?" Takara asked as Arthur sat down and the Sorting continued. The Brit said nothing for a moment.

Finally, he spoke up. "I believe Albus Severus was placed in Slytherin for the same reason that I was. He is not there just because he fits the Slytherin standard for cunning and ambition, but also because he has the potential to blur the House lines."

"Blur the House lines?" Takara echoed, as Rose Weasley was sorted into Gryffindor.

"This is the tragic thing about Hogwarts, Taytay," Arthur replied gravely, as the Sorting ended with Silvius Zabini being sorted into Slytherin. "The Houses are microcosms. Each of them is usually separate from all others, causing stereotypes and bias to pop up between members of each House. Slytherin House has always been, in the eyes of the rest of the school, the House for misfits and Dark Lords. This is why Albus didn't want to go to Slytherin."

"I thought it was because everyone else in the family was in Gryffindor," Takara mumbled as the Feast began.

Arthur nodded. "That's true, but Slytherin's reputation weighs in more seriously than family tradition. After all, I was the black sheep of the family, too; don't you remember me telling you that? Aunt Erin and Uncles Liam, Arawn, and Peter were all in Gryffindor. I believe Albus has been selected to follow in my footsteps."

Takara watched the diminutive Potter eat his dinner in silence. "He is there to prove that Slytherin House is still noble," she whispered, and Arthur nodded.

"Yes. Albus Severus Potter will blur the House lines once more."

**

* * *

Notes:** Takara ("treasure" in Japanese) is based off **the quiet corrupted one**'s original character Tèa. In our Facebook RP, she is dating Hugh Fraser, who is pretty much Hugh Williams in this fic.

Allen Jones represents the U.S. Virgin Islands, but he has a different mum in this fic. Sébastien Bonnefois represents Réunion, one of the French overseas territories. It's an island off the coast of Africa, near Madagascar and Mauritius.

The little Potter-Weasley, Weasley-Delacour, and Weasley-Granger kids are all from the Epilogue of _Deathly Hallows_, of course.

Athena Sapienti takes her first name after the Greek version of Minerva; Sapienti is Italian (or Latin) for 'wise'.


	10. Is There a Doctor at this Wedding?

**Summary: **Well, at least it's not the Death Eaters' wedding crasher squad.

* * *

**Is There a Doctor at this Wedding?**

_2 May, 1999_

It rained on the morning of the wedding, and as Kiku Honda looked out the window at the grey skies, he felt apprehension.

His fiancé and soon-to-be husband, Arthur Kirkland, was still sleeping, his face angelic. Kiku reached out, smiling as he brushed some stray strands of golden hair away from Arthur's closed eyes. Every day, Kiku couldn't help but ask himself if all of this was true – that the achingly beautiful Arthur asleep next to him really wasn't a dream.

"Arthur-san, wake up," Kiku mumbled, kissing the slumbering Briton. "Today's the day."

Arthur opened one emerald-green eye, looking up at his Japanese fiancé. His face softened into a smile and he reached up, cupping Kiku's cheek. "So it is," he whispered. "What's the weather like?"

"Rainy," Kiku replied, expression slightly doleful. Arthur laughed and pulled his fiancé down to kiss him.

"That's England for you," he replied sardonically, peppering kisses all over Kiku's face as he went. "Grumpy and rainy."

"You're more pleasant than that!" Kiku exclaimed in tones of mock scandal. Arthur smiled, his face a sunny contradiction to the weather outside.

"Thanks for the compliment," he replied, cocking his head to the side and looking up at Kiku through his lashes. "Now, the wedding's happening in the afternoon…"

Kiku understood the hidden message perfectly well.

* * *

Had the British Muggle government known that Arthur Kirkland was the personification of England, his wedding would have been a grand event, set against the splendour of some royal chapel with various nobles and foreign dignitaries looking on. Even the Queen would have attended, royal family in tow. The entire affair would have been followed down to the last detail by the media and televised to everyone around the world. People would spend lengthy hours debating over Kiku's fashion sense and the implications of their national personification marrying someone of the same gender. There would have been security detail posted all over the premises, and thousands of people watching the wedding procession wind through the streets of London as if Arthur and Kiku was a royal couple.

But they didn't know, so Arthur and Kiku were perfectly fine with staging a low-key wedding in the Burrow backyard. Once again, Millamant's Magic Marquees had risen magnificently to the occasion with a giant marquee outfitted with golden chairs and balloons. Garlands of roses and chrysanthemums wound around the interior of the marquee, and Roderich Edelstein played at a baby grand piano.

"Man, I'm so nervous for you, Artie!" Alfred exclaimed, bouncing slightly and looking slightly disgruntled with his dress robes. "I hope the cake's edible!"

Trust his best man to worry about food. Arthur snorted and looked out at the marquee. The guests were starting to arrive, being led in by Madeline Desmarais, Nataliya Arlovskaya, Ginny Weasley, and Gabrielle Delacour. Arthur had entrusted Mrs Weasley to take care of the guest list, and as a result, nearly half of the Weasley clan was invited.

Harry Potter poked his head into the room, clad in dark green dress robes. "You doing all right?" he asked Arthur nervously, and the Briton nodded. "The other… Nations… have arrived. Francis got the cake delivered; he'll be up in a moment after he talks to Fleur." Fleur Delacour-Weasley was dangerously close to her delivery date, but she had insisted on attending the wedding. Arthur found that quite touching, but he had advised Francis and Bill to keep an eye on her.

"That's good. Thank you, Harry," Arthur said, smiling kindly. "Maybe you ought to get a seat."

"Ron and Hermione are saving me a seat," the Boy Who Lived replied, shrugging. He looked around the bedroom – it was Fred and George's old room. "Man, these memories," he whispered, and Arthur detected a tear at the corner of the other's eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said, not knowing what else to say. Harry shrugged and tore his eyes away from a photograph of Fred and George, looking at the camera with identical mischievous grins.

The rain had stopped by the time all the guests were accounted for. Harry slipped off to the marquee as Arthur and Alfred descended the stairs. Kiku and Yao, who was giving him away, were nowhere to be seen. Neither was Francis, although he had promised to see Arthur before the ceremony began.

Mei Wang, a bubbly Taiwanese girl, beamed at Arthur and Alfred from her spot on the couch. She was one of the bridesmaids; the other one was Francis's little sister Aurélie Bonnefois.

"Good luck, Arthur," Mei said cheerfully. Arthur smiled back at her.

"Thank you. Where's Aurélie?"

"Talking to her brother in the kitchen." As she said that, Francis left the kitchen with Aurélie in tow; the girl smiled at Arthur from behind her bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums.

"Nervous?" Francis Bonnefois asked with a grin, looping an arm around Arthur.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "If I wasn't, then I'm not a proper bridegroom," he replied waspishly. The Frenchman laughed and hugged him; Arthur rested his chin on the other's shoulder.

"Bonne chance, mon ami," Francis whispered in his ear.

* * *

Arthur had already made his entrance when Kiku left the house to go to the marquee as well. The Japanese, wearing a simple white kimono, looked down at his bouquet of red roses, biting his lower lip slightly.

"You look pale, aru," Yao Wang commented from next to him. Kiku nodded, sighing. "Don't be nervous, aru. You know he loves you, aru."

"I know," Kiku said simply. "But I'm still…" he looked up at the Chinese man, who smiled slightly.

"Relax, Kiku. It'll be fine, aru. How long have you waited for this, aru? It's everything you've been waiting for, remember?" Yao hugged him. "I wish you all the best, Kiku."

"Arigatou," Kiku mumbled against Yao's shoulder.

They entered the marquee after Mei and Aurélie. Kiku looked about at the red and gold decorations, vaguely feeling as if he was walking into a Gryffindor-themed wedding. He knew, though, that the colours only represented the rose and the chrysanthemum. Good luck and fortune, love and happiness – red and gold meant such different things to East and West.

But now the lines were blurring again, and those meanings all melded together. Everything Kiku wanted, everything Arthur wanted – all of that came down to today.

Arthur only had eyes for him as Kiku walked down the aisle; Kiku felt a sudden surge of embarrassment at that. Being on the receiving end of that loving gaze made butterflies flutter in his stomach. As he neared Arthur, the butterflies grew more and more panicked. Kiku felt as if he was going to have a nervous breakdown in the middle of his own wedding.

But somehow, he made it, and Yao placed his hand in Arthur's and went to his seat. Kiku smiled up at Arthur; Arthur smiled back down.

The officiator, that same tufty-haired wizard at Dumbledore's funeral and Bill and Fleur's wedding, spread his hands and began to speak. Kiku remembered the words, his tears threatening to spill as the officiator continued to talk. Had it only been two years ago when he had wished with all his heart that he were standing here with Arthur? Now he was.

"Do you, Arthur Kirkland, take Kiku Honda to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Arthur looked down at Kiku, green eyes alight. "I do," he replied.

"And do you, Kiku Honda, take Arthur Kirkland to be your lawfully wedded husband?" The officiator looked slightly pink about the cheeks at having to say that, and there certainly were murmurs in the crowd, but Kiku didn't mind.

"I do," he answered, as he and Arthur reached for the rings.

"I love you, Kiku," Arthur declared, as he slipped a simple gold band onto Kiku's finger. "You are my best friend, and today I give myself to you in marriage. I promise to encourage and inspire you, to laugh with you, and to comfort you in times of trouble. I promise to love you through good times and bad, through happiness and sorrow, and through sickness and health. Come what may – when life seems easy and when it seems hard – I promise to cherish you and always hold you in highest regard, from this day forward to the rest of our lives." As he heard that vow, tears slipped from Kiku's eyes and he smiled a watery smile. At the back of the marquee, Hagrid's trumpet-like sobs drowned out Roderich's music.

Kiku looked intently into Arthur's eyes as he slipped the other ring onto the Briton's finger. "Arthur-san," he said quietly, "With this ring I tie my heart to yours in tenderness and devotion. I promise to protect, support, and encourage you through life's sorrows and joys, and to honour your culture as we join customs to form a trusting alliance. I promise to help you establish a home for ourselves and for our children, shaped by our respective heritages – a loving environment dedicated to peace, hope, and respect for all people. From this day forward our lives will be intertwined forever, blessed in faith and filled with compassion and love."

The officiator then raised his wand above the two of them. "I declare you bonded for life," he said, and a shower of stars fell as Arthur and Kiku kissed.

* * *

The reception began, and déjà-vu threatened to overwhelm some of the guests as the sides of the marquee vanished and the dance floor cleared. "Next thing you know, the Death Eaters are going to return," Harry said sardonically as he went to greet Arthur and Kiku.

"Oh, don't be like that," Ginny chided, and Arthur laughed. He shook Harry's hand and kissed Ginny on both cheeks.

"Congratulations, mate," Ron added from behind his younger sister. Hermione, dressed in red, grinned and nodded.

"Thank you," Arthur replied, as Harry and Ginny congratulated Kiku.

Alfred leaned over to talk to Arthur. "Who invited _him_ here?" he asked, nudging his head in Ivan Braginski's direction. The tall Russian was talking to Yao; he had his usual beige scarf wrapped around his neck and he carried a bouquet of sunflowers.

"I don't know; Mrs Weasley probably took pity on him or something," Arthur replied with a shrug. "As long as he doesn't crash the wedding, I'm fine."

Alfred bristled slightly, and brushed the well-wishing Ivan off when he made his way down to their end of the line.

Afternoon dwindled into twilight, as Arthur and Kiku cut the wedding cake. Two phoenix figurines at the top took flight as they did so. The cake had been made by Francis, so naturally it was a success. Madeline took care of the rest of the catering.

"We're opening up our bakery and seafood restaurant in Paris next month," Francis hinted to Arthur as they ate. Across the table, Ron was stuffing his face and telling an obviously annoyed Hermione to get the address of the restaurant as quickly as possible.

"Sounds intriguing," Arthur replied. "What's the name?"

"La Pâtisserie sur Mer," Madeline piped up from next to Francis. Ron was writing that down on the inside of his cuffs, much to Hermione's annoyance. Arthur snickered at them, cutting himself another slice of cake.

Roderich had been replaced by a band; they began to play music. Arthur and Kiku had the first dance, but they were quickly joined by other couples. The wedding seemed to be a success thus far, Arthur thought, as the champagne flutes made their rounds.

"Bill!" Fleur screamed suddenly, and Arthur berated himself for thinking too soon. He and Kiku paused in their dance to look over at Fleur, who was at a table looking very pained. Bill Weasley arrived next to her moments after, face darkened with worry as he handed her a glass of water.

"The child?" he asked, and Fleur nodded.

"Ze water," she added, and Bill's eyes went wide.

"Do we have a doctor in the house?" the Weasley demanded, causing the reception to screech to a standstill.

"I've been an intern at St Mungo's for a year already," Kiku said suddenly, detaching himself from Arthur's arms and walking over. "Maybe I can help."

* * *

Kiku felt countless pairs of eyes on him as he walked towards Bill and Fleur. "Has labour already begun?" he asked as calmly as he could, reaching for his wand. "Usually the water breaks during early labour. Were you already feeling frequent contractions?" Fleur nodded, her face contorted in panic and pain.

"We need to get you somewhere private," Arthur agreed as he appeared next to Kiku. "Fleur, can you walk?"

Fleur nodded as Francis detached himself from the crowd and hurried over. "Should we go to ze 'ôpital?" she asked.

"How frequent are the contractions?" Kiku interjected. "I don't think it's a good thing to Apparate to St Mungo's while pregnant. If you're just beginning labour, you might be able to withstand taking the Floo Network. If not, then we can deliver the child at the Burrow."

"The Burrow might be a safer option," Bill reasoned. "If it gets serious, we can just Floo her to St Mungo's. But I don't think it's a serious case."

"We trust you," Fleur added, and Kiku felt his cheeks colouring.

They rushed Fleur into Bill's old room at the Burrow. As soon as she lay down on the bed, Kiku performed a quick incantation to make sure that Fleur's water really broke. He had half hoped that it was a false alarm, but his heart sank as the sparks around Fleur's belly glowed green. The baby was about to be delivered.

"I said it was a bad idea for you to come to the wedding, Fleur," Francis rebuked as Kiku instructed her to take off her undergarments. "You said you were already contracting before the wedding."

"But I deedn't zink zis would 'appen so soon," Fleur countered grumpily as Kiku inspected her cervix.

"Only one centimetre," the Japanese announced. "How long is the gap between contractions?"

"Around five to ten minutes," Fleur replied, lying back on the pillows. Next to her, Bill nervously stroked her hand.

* * *

"Well, this time it's not Death Eaters," Hermione commented sarcastically as Arthur and Kiku vanished with Bill, Fleur, and Francis.

Harry laughed and sipped his champagne. "I hope they're all right," he remarked. Even Ginny, who harboured a grudge for Fleur, looked worried.

"Hermione, we have to go to Francis's new bakery when it opens; this nosh is great," Ron mumbled through a mouthful of food. Hermione cuffed him about the head, but she was smiling.

"I know, you've told me that for the thousandth time already," she rebuked.

* * *

Ten centimetres already, and it had only been half an hour. Arthur's face was pale; his knuckles were white as he gripped the bedpost, watching his newly wedded husband tend to Fleur.

"Fully dilated now," Kiku said, looking at Fleur intently. "Are you getting the urge to push?" Fleur nodded. "Well, then, go ahead."

Fleur's face contorted; she spasmed with pain and gripped Bill's hand so hard she left marks. Bill's face was just as pale as Arthur's as he watched his wife; he reached up and wiped the sweat from her brow as she pushed.

"Come on, chérie, you can do it," he urged, as a whey-faced Francis stroked Fleur's other hand.

"Eet 'urts!" the part-Veela screeched, eyes closed in concentration and agony.

"Don't worry, you're doing fine," soothed Kiku. "The baby is simply transitioning from the womb to the birth canal." The explanation really didn't assuage anyone's anxiety, but Arthur reached out and patted Kiku's shoulder anyways.

"Keep on pushing," Francis encouraged, and Fleur leaned heavily against Bill as she complied. Arthur felt sweat starting to trickle down his brow; he knew that Kiku felt much more anxious than he did. Part of him was jealous of how easily Kiku kept his façade.

"The baby's head!" Bill exclaimed suddenly, and Arthur peered around Kiku's shoulder to see.

* * *

Kiku felt his eyes go wide as he watched the baby start to crown; he waved his wand and used the spell to guide the rest of the baby out. As Fleur's daughter emerged, applause from the others filled the room.

With another flick of his wand, Kiku detached the umbilical cord and siphoned the blood and mucus off the child. Cradling her gently, he handed the newborn girl to Fleur.

"Très bien fait, Kiku!" Francis breathed as Kiku Vanished the placenta and the rest of the mess from the bed sheets.

"Thank you," Bill choked out; he had been overcome with tears. Fleur said nothing, only cuddling her daughter close. Arthur smiled at Kiku, reaching out and cupping his cheek.

"I don't think that happens at every couple's wedding," he commented, and Kiku laughed quietly at that.

* * *

"We are proud to announce the birth of Victoire Weasley," a slightly shaken and very emotional Francis announced to the reception after they left Bill and Fleur back at the Burrow with their new daughter. "She was born just ten minutes ago, delivered by Kiku here, and she is perfectly healthy."

There were rounds of cheering and congratulations; Hermione wanted to know if they could visit.

"Wait until tomorrow or so," Arthur advised. "There's a reception that needs to be finished."

Dancing until dawn suddenly sounded like the best idea ever to Arthur and Kiku as the music began once more. "I'm so exhausted," the Japanese mumbled as they began to dance slowly, holding onto each other and rocking back and forth to the beat. "But I don't want to leave."

"Neither do I," Arthur agreed, clasping their hands. Their wedding rings met, gold upon gold. Kiku leaned against Arthur's chest. "I love you," Arthur whispered.

"Aishiteru," Kiku replied with a smile.

* * *

**Notes:** FFF, I know that Victoire's technically supposed to be born a year later. But I already wrote that Fleur crashed Arthur and Kiku's wedding by going into labour, so I couldn't back down. Bleh.

You will not believe how much time I spent on pregnancy and wedding sites for this. The things I do for my writing. .

HAPPY ASAKIKU ALLIANCE DAY!


	11. Subtlety and Chrysanthemums

**Summary:** Some obstacles were just too thick for subtlety.

**

* * *

Subtlety and Chrysanthemums**

Kiku Honda had always prided himself on his subtlety and intelligence. When he wasn't busy studying for his classes, he was observing people and their conversations, slipping in his own subtle remarks when appropriate. He read the atmosphere like a book, always knowing when to press a matter and when to back off. He wasn't a social butterfly, but he could hold his own in the Ravenclaw common room well enough.

His greatest obstacle, however, was Arthur.

Arthur Kirkland had always prided himself on his cunning and intelligence. When he wasn't busy studying for _his_ classes, he was devising plans to get back at Alfred, Francis, Nataliya, or anyone else who had irked him earlier that day. He was a sharp student, always ready with a gibe that stung worse than a Stinging Hex. But for all of his cleverness and cunning, he could sometimes be a thickheaded _git_.

And that was exactly what he was to Kiku. A thickheaded, yet lovable git. He was polite company and a helpful study partner, but he _just couldn't read the damn signs_.

Arthur walked into the library one afternoon to see Kiku waiting for him at their usual table, looking unconcerned and reading a copy of Transfiguration Today. "You look upset," the Japanese boy remarked, looking up at him.

"Why would you say that?" Arthur wondered, setting down his book bag and taking out his Charms textbook.

"You just have that resigned look about you," Kiku replied, a slight pink tinge to his cheeks as he said that. It always happened around Arthur; he'd long since taught himself to ignore it.

"I'm fine. Don't worry." Arthur smiled, looking at him. "Charms, for today?"

"Th-that'd be nice." Oh, and the stuttering, too. Don't forget the stuttering. He'd taught himself not to worry _too much_ about the stuttering; it only happened around Arthur.

"You cold?" the Slytherin wondered, raising an eyebrow. "It was a bit nippy out there earlier in the afternoon. Alfred was wearing his bomber jacket over his robes again, but even he was shivering."

Kiku had also learnt to ignore Arthur's comments about Francis and Alfred. It was common knowledge that the Briton liked them that way; he didn't need it shoved down his throat. "I-I'm fine."

"If you say so." Arthur shrugged.

Kiku sighed and opened his Charms textbook as well.

* * *

Floriography. The language of flowers. That was one of the most subtle languages known to humankind, for both wizards and Muggles. The Muggles had started it all in the Victorian era, but the wizards had followed that trend faster than you could say 'flutterby bush'.

The chrysanthemums were blooming now, as fall burst forth in a myriad of colours. Kiku had kept a collection in his room in Ravenclaw Tower; everyone else had helped him raise them. Now it was time to put the flowers to good use.

"A bouquet!" Arthur exclaimed in surprise as he arrived at his usual spot in the Great Hall for breakfast. Twelve red chrysanthemums, skilfully arranged, sat on his plate in all their crimson glory. Arthur picked the flowers up, admiring them. "This is… this is beautiful!"

Kiku had turned around at the Ravenclaw table to watch him, but Arthur didn't look up from his examination.

"Flowers? Pour le rosbif?" Francis demanded, grinning. "Impossible!"

"Play nice, Francis," Nataliya chided. "I give bouquets of sunflowers to Brother all the time. Arthur, who do you think gave you those flowers?"

Arthur frowned. "You know, I haven't the slightest idea," he remarked.

"They're chrysanthemums, aren't they?" Francis asked curiously.

"Wait, who would send me chrysanthemums?" Arthur wondered aloud. "I mean, Alfred probably can't even pronounce the name…"

He still didn't look up to see Kiku's expression. The Japanese boy felt a bit crestfallen – was Arthur really _that_ thick?

"Chrysanthemums are Japanese, aren't they?" Nataliya asked suddenly, and Arthur's head shot up.

"Wait, I think they are!" he exclaimed, looking over at the Ravenclaw table. Kiku's heart raced. "Kiku!"

"H-hai?" Kiku called back.

"Thanks for the flowers! It's a nice colour, but I thought chrysanthemums were yellow!" Arthur hollered.

Kiku blinked back tears. "Doui... douitashimashite," he called back, before quickly leaving his seat and walking out of the room.

"Smooth, Arthur, smooth," Francis cackled. Arthur frowned.

"What did I do to offend him?" he asked.

* * *

Subtlety. Kiku leaned against a window, looking out at the mountains in the distance. "Oblivious… idiot," he grumbled, refusing to wipe away his tears. Damn it, he was not going to show weakness.

Or maybe he will, for now. Kiku hid his face in his hands.

Some obstacles were incompatible with subtlety, after all.

**

* * *

Notes:** Red chrysanthemums mean 'I love you'. Yellow ones mean 'slighted love'. Can you tell why Kiku is crying?


End file.
